Pamplona...Iruna...basking in the kingdom of Navarre...
where the sun also rises, but did not show itself to us...
where the drizzle-drenched streets narrow through tall tight buildings in the casco viejo [old city]...
where we [disappointedly] did not run into any rampaging bulls...
where Hemingway still stands guard in front of the third largest bull-ring in the world...
where even the most foolhardy pilgrims sat this weekend out to indulge in more comfort pintxos [Basque tapas]...
where we set foot on the slippery bridge of the departure point for the spanish leg of the El Camino de Santiago, only to wander as far as the cavernous and populous Café Iruna where we were no longer the loneliest and hungriest people in a softly raining Spain...
where the sun also rises, but did not show itself to us...
where the drizzle-drenched streets narrow through tall tight buildings in the casco viejo [old city]...
where we [disappointedly] did not run into any rampaging bulls...
where Hemingway still stands guard in front of the third largest bull-ring in the world...
where even the most foolhardy pilgrims sat this weekend out to indulge in more comfort pintxos [Basque tapas]...
where we set foot on the slippery bridge of the departure point for the spanish leg of the El Camino de Santiago, only to wander as far as the cavernous and populous Café Iruna where we were no longer the loneliest and hungriest people in a softly raining Spain...
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